Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

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Recordings

'This new recording of Berlioz's appealing work well stands comparison with its much-praised predecessors … a new wonder of a score on each heari ...'The choir's contribution is a tour de force of expressiveness, discipline and meticulous attention to detail … An engagingly winsome interpretat ...» More

John Rutter selects some of his favourite Christmas carols, old and new, from classic Cambridge Singers recordings, including several of his own arrangements and never-before-released gems, closing with Vaughan Williams’ majestic Fantasia on Ch ...» More

At that time, Jesus, in the manger, had just been born; But no sign had as yet heralded the event. And already, those in power were quaking with fear; Already, the weak were filled with hope, Everyone was waiting. Hear now, all you Christians, about the terrible crime Which the king of the Jews, in his terror, dreamt up, And about the heavenly message which, In their humble stable, God sent to Jesus’ parents.

A Centurion: Polydorus! I thought that you, being a soldier, Were already on the banks of the Tiber.

Polydorus: I would be there indeed, if only Gallus, Your renowned praetor, had let me go free. But, without any explanation, He sentenced me, as if to a prison, to this sorry city So that I might be a witness here to his madness And guard the sleepless nights of a petty Jewish king.

A Centurion: What is Herod up to?

Polydorus: He is dreaming and trembling, He imagines traitors all around him, he convenes His council every day; And from morning until night he insists On being guarded … in short, he is plaguing us.

Centurion: Polydorus! I thought you were back on the banks of the Tiber, my friend.

Polydorus: I would be now if Gallus, our illustrious Praetor, had let me. But without any reason he has confined me to this dreary city, to witness his antics, and to watch over the sleepless nights of a petty Jewish king.

Centurion: What news of Herod?

Polydorus: He dreams, he trembles, he sees traitors all around him, he calls his council every day, and from dusk till dawn we have to watch over him; he pesters us.

The Soothsayers: O king! The wise men of Judea acknowledge you As a wise and generous prince; They are devoted to you. Speak! What do you want from them?

Herod: I want them to enlighten me. Is there some cure for the gnawing worry Which has been haunting me for so long?

The Soothsayers: What is it?

Herod: Every night The same dream terrifies me; A deep, slow voice Keeps repeating these words to me: ‘Your days of happiness will soon be gone! A child has just been born, And he will put an end To your reign and your power.’ I want to know from you Whether this overwhelming terror Is justified, and how this fearful danger Can be averted?

The Soothsayers: The Spirits will know and, once we have Consulted them, they will be quick to reply.

Herod: Alright! alright! let them die by the sword. I cannot delay. In Jerusalem, In Nazareth, in Bethlehem, Let my sword strike every new-born child! Despite the screams, despite the tears Of so many distraught mothers, Rivers of blood will be shed. I will be deaf to this suffering. Neither beauty nor charm nor age Will weaken my resolve: We must put an end to my terrors.

The Soothsayers: Yes, yes! Let them die by the sword! There’s no time to lose, no time to lose! In Jerusalem, In Nazareth, in Bethlehem, Let your sword strike every new born child! Yes! Depite the screams, despite the tears Of so many distraught mothers, And the rivers of blood which will be shed.

Herod: No, no, in Jerusalem In Nazareth, in Bethlehem, let my sword strike! Despite the screams, despite the tears Of so many distraught mothers, And the rivers of blood …

The Soothsayers: Be deaf to this suffering!

Herod: I will be deaf …

The Soothsayers: Let nothing weaken your resolve! And you, O Spirits, incite his anger, By intensifying his terrors! Be deaf to this suffering!

Soothsayers: The wise men of Judah, o king, know you as a wise and bountiful prince; they are your devoted servants; speak, what do you ask of them?

Herod: Let them reveal for me whether there is some remedy for the gnawing suspicions that have long been oppressing my mind.

Soothsayers: What is their nature?

Herod: Every night the same dream haunts me; the same slow and solemn voice repeats these words: ‘Your days of contentment are numbered, there is born a child that will overthrow your kingdom and your might.’ May I learn from you whether this terror that seizes me has some foundation, and how this formidable danger may be averted?

Soothsayers: The spirits will know; we will consult them and they will shortly answer us.

(The soothsayers perform a cabalistic dance and evoke the spirits.)

Soothsayers: The voice tells the truth, o king. there is born a child that will overthrow your kingdom and your might. But none shall know his name or his line.

Herod: What must I do?

Soothsayers: You shall fall unless you obey the spirits of darkness, and unless, to exorcise your fate, you order the slaughter of newborn children.

Herod (seeming to hesitate): So … (He rises and comes forward.) So be it! Let them perish by the sword, I shall hesitate no longer. in Jerusalem, in Nazareth and in Bethlehem let my sword fall heavy on all new-born babes! Pity not the cries nor the tears of their despairing mothers. Rivers of blood shall flow. I shall be deaf to their wailing, neither beauty, grace, nor age shall weaken my resolve: my fears must be allayed!

Soothsayers: Yes, yes! Let them perish by the sword! Hesitate no longer. In Jerusalem, in Nazareth and in Bethlehem let your sword fall heavy on all new-born babes! Yes! Pity not the cries nor the tears of their despairing mothers. Rivers of blood shall flow. Be deaf to their wailing, let nothing weaken your resolve! And you, Spirits, to fan his fury, redouble his fears!

The Virgin Mary: O my dear son, give this tender grass To these lambs who come to you, bleating! They are so gentle! Let them take it! Don’t make them suffer, O my child!

The Virgin Mary, Joseph: Scatter these flowers on their bed again! Your gifts make them happy, dear child. See how they play games! See how happy they are! See how their mother Gives you such a gentle look!

The Shepherds: He is going away, far from the land Where, in a stable, he first saw light of day. May he always be to his father and mother The object of their love! May he grow, may he prosper And may he, in his turn, be a good father!

If ever, in the presence of idolaters, He should come to know unhappiness As he flees from the mother land, May he find happiness again by coming back to us! May his father’s poverty Be ever dear to his heart!

God bless you, dear child! God bless you, O fortunate couple! May you never feel struck By injustice! May a good angel steer you From the dangers which hang over you!

This gentle, pastoral chorus, popular in Britain ever since it was published with English text by Novello in the early 1900s, opens Part II of Berlioz’s oratorio L’enfance du Christ (1854) and was the seed from which the work sprang. During a dull card party Berlioz had idly sketched the music as an organ piece and was persuaded to add suitable words, which led him to imagine a biblical scene where the shepherds bade farewell to the Holy Family as they embarked on their flight into Egypt. Out of this grew the whole oratorio.

Narrator: When the pilgrims had come To a beautiful place, Where there were trees thick with leaves And pure water in plenty, Saint Joseph said: ‘Stop! Near to this clear spring After such long hardship Here let us rest!’

The baby Jesus was sleeping … So Mary, stopping the donkey, replied: ‘Look at this lovely carpet of soft grass And flowers, the Lord has laid it down In the desert for my son.’ Then, having sat down in the shade Of three green-leaved palm trees, While the donkey grazed and the child slept, The holy travellers dozed for a while, Lulled by happy dreams; And the heavenly angels who knelt around them Worshipped the holy child.

Narrator: The pilgrims arriving at a pleasant place where were leafy trees and water in abundance, Saint Joseph said: ‘Let us stop by this clear spring, after such toils let us rest here.’

The child Jesus lay asleep … The Holy Mary stopping the ass, replied: ‘See here this beautiful carpet of soft grass and flowers, the Lord has spread it in the desert for my son.’ Then sitting in the shade of three leafy palm trees, the ass grazing, the child asleep, the holy travellers slumbered awhile. Lulled by sweet dreams; and the angels of heaven knelt around them in adoration of the holy child.

Narrator: For three days, despite the strong winds, They had been walking through the shifting sands. The Holy Family’s poor servant, The donkey, had already fallen in the desert; And, long before catching sight of any city wall, His master would have succombed to Exhaustion and thirst were it not for God’s help.

Only the Blessed Virgin Mary Walked on in calm serenity, and Her sweet child’s blonde locks and blessed head Seemed to revive her as he slept on her heart.

But soon her steps faltered. How often the couple came to a stand still! But at last they arrived In Saïs, gasping, On the verge of death.

It was a city which had for many years been reunited With the Roman empire, Full of cruel, haughty-looking people. Hear how the distressing agony was to continue For these pilgrims seeking shelter and bread!

Narrator: For three days, despite the keen winds, they travelled on through the shifting sand. The poor servant of the Holy Family, the ass, had already fallen in the desert; and long before coming within sight of city walls the master too would have succumbed to fatigue and thirst without the help of God.

Holy Mary alone, walked on calm and serene, and her gentle child’s fair locks and blessed head seemed to give her strength, resting on her breast.

But soon her steps faltered. How many times the pair halted! But at last they arrived At Saïs, breathless, Almost lifeless.

It was a city long since within the roman Empire, full of cruel and disdainful people. Hear how long the pilgrims suffered the heart-rending agony of seeking shelter and food.

The Virgin Mary: In this enormous town Where the people dash about in crowds, What rumblings there are! Joseph I’m frightened … I cannot go on … alas … I am dead … Go and knock on that door! Joseph: Open up, open up, help us! Let us rest in your house! May a holy welcome be granted To mother and child! Alas! We have come From Judea on foot. Chorus: Get back, vile Hebrews! The people of Rome have no use For vagabonds and lepers! The Virgin Mary: My feet are staining the earth with blood. Joseph: Lord, my wife is at death’s door. The Virgin Mary: Jesus will die … it is too late: My breast has run dry and has no milk. Joseph: Let us knock again at this door! O, for pity’s sake, help us! Let us rest in your house … Chorus: Get back, vile Hebrews! The people of Egypt have no use For vagabonds and lepers. Joseph: Lord, save this mother! Mary is dying … it is too late … And her child has no more milk. O you cruel people, your house remains closed. Your hearts are hard … just visible beneath The leafy branches of these sycamore trees, Right off the beaten track, is a humble roof … Let us knock again … But united with my voice, Mary, let your sweet voice Also try to move them to pity! The Virgin Mary: Alas! We are to suffer Insult and rebuff everywhere. I am going to faint … Joseph, The Virgin Mary: Oh, for pity’s sake, help us! Let us rest in your house …

Mary: In this huge city full of jostling crowds what tumult! Joseph! I am afraid! I can go no further … Alas! I am dying … Go and knock at that door.

Joseph (knocking): Open, open to us, help us! Let us rest beneath your roof! Grant sacred hospitality to the mother and her child. Alas! From Judah have we come, on foot.

Voices (from within the house): Get away, vile Hebrews! The people of Rome have no use for vagabonds and lepers.

Mary: My feet are staining the ground with blood!

Joseph: O Lord! My wife is near to death!

Mary: Jesus is dying … all is lost: My breasts are dry of milk!

Joseph: Let us try knocking at this door. (knocking) Oh! For pity’s sake, help us! Let us rest beneath your roof! Grant sacred hospitality to the mother and her child. Alas! From Judah have we come, on foot.

Voices (from within the house): Get away, vile Hebrews! The people of Egypt have no use for vagabonds and lepers.

Joseph: O Lord! Save the mother! Mary is dying … all is lost … And her child has no more milk. Your house, cruel people, stays shut! Your hearts are hard! Beneath the branches of those sycamores I see a humble dwelling, standing apart … Let us try knocking once more … But with your gentle voice, Mary, joined with mine this time, let us try to soften their hearts.

Mary: Alas! Shall we everywhere have to suffer insult and affront! I am falling …

Joseph: Oh! Pity us!

Joseph and Mary: Oh! Pity us, help us! Let us rest beneath your roof! Grant sacred hospitality to the mother and her child. Alas! From Judah have we come, on foot.

Father: Almighty God! What distress! Attend to them at once! Daughters and sons and servants, Show the goodness of your hearts! Wash the wounds on their bruised feet! Give them water, give them milk And bunches of ripe grapes! Give them water, give them milk! Prepare a bed For the child at once!

Father, Chorus Of Ishmaelites: Wash the wounds on their bruised feet! Give them water, give them milk …

Father: Sorrow is imprinted on your weary faces. Have courage! We will do Whatever we can To help you. Banish all fear! The children of Ishmael Are brothers of the children of Israel. We were born in Libya, in Syria. What is your name?

Joseph: Her name is Mary; I am called Joseph, and we call the child: Jesus.

Father: Jesus! What a lovely name! Tell me, how do you earn a living? Yes, what is your profession?

Joseph: I am a carpenter.

Father: Well, well, that’s my profession; You are my comrade. We will work together, And we will earn lots of money. That’s that then! Jesus will grow up here with us; And soon he will be helping you. And he will learn great wisdom. That’s settled!

Father: To round off this evening properly, And to delight our guests, let us turn To the sacred art, The power of gentle music! Fetch your instruments, children! Sorrow will yield to The sound of the flute playing with the Theban harp.

Father: You are crying, young mother … Gentle tears, that’s alright! Go and sleep, good father! Sleep well, dream no evil dreams. Enough of these worries. May the charm Of the promise of happiness Pour into your heart!

Father: Come in, come in, poor Hebrews, our door is never closed to those in distress. (Joseph and Mary enter)

Father: Great God! What suffering! Hasten to attend to them! Daughters, sons, servants, show the goodness of your hearts. Wash the wounds of their bruised feet. Give them water and milk, and ripe grapes; make ready at once a cradle for the child.

Chorus: Wash the wounds of their bruised feet. Give them water and milk, and ripe grapes; make ready at once a cradle for the child.

(The young Ishmaelites go about the house, obeying the various orders of the Father.)

Father: on your weary features is imprinted the mark of sorrow; take cheer, we shall do all we can to help you. Banish all fear;

The children of Ishmael are brothers to those of Israel. We were born in Lebanon, in Syria. What are your names?

Joseph: Her name is Mary, I am Joseph, and the child Jesus.

Father: Jesus! What a charming name! Tell me, what is your occupation? Yes, what is your trade?

Joseph: I am a carpenter.

Father: Indeed! That is my profession, we are fellow-workers. We shall work together and make a good living. Let us do it! Jesus will grow up among us, then in time he will assist you, and grow in wisdom. Let us do it!

Chorus: Let us do it! Jesus will grow up among us, then in time he will assist you, and grow in wisdom.

Father: To conclude this evening fittingly and to divert our guests, let us have recourse to the sacred science, to the power of sweet music. take your instruments, my children: all suffering yields to the flute and the Theban harp.

Narrator: And thus it was that by an infidel The Saviour was saved. For ten years, Mary, and Joseph with her, Witnessed the blossoming of a sublime sweetness within him, Infinite tenderness United with wisdom. And eventually, having returned To the place of his birth He was willing to carry out the divine sacrifice Which would buy back the human race From eternal torture, And clear the way to its salvation.

Narrator, Chorus: O my soul, what can you do now, But quell your pride in the face of such a mystery! O my heart, be filled with that solemn, pure love Which alone can open the way to a heavenly dwelling place. Amen.

Narrator: Thus it came to pass that by an unbeliever our Saviour was saved. For ten years Mary, and Joseph with her, watched in him the flowering of sublime gentleness, of infinite tenderness and wisdom; then at last returning to the place where he was born, it was his will to fulfil the holy sacrifice that redeemed the human race from eternal damnation, and traced our path to salvation.

O my soul, what remains for thee but to bow thy pride before this mystery?

Chorus: O my soul, what remains for thee but to bow thy pride before this mystery? O my heart, be filled with that pure and noble love which alone can open for us the gates of heaven! Amen.